


What These Great Men Do

by Corilyn_Winchester



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Because its canon, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Has Issues, Clint ignores medical orders, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, Especially now in the Fraction run, Gen, Post Loki, Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), So does Nat, Whump, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2018-04-04 21:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4153254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corilyn_Winchester/pseuds/Corilyn_Winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After New York Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov get grounded for a while by SHIELD. Not too long, just enough to heal up, and for Agent Barton to level out (even if that's not listed in his medical hold notice).<br/>But when the two, when STRIKE team Delta is allowed back out....let's just say that the Avengers thought they were a tough group, they had no clue what the two resident SHIELD agents could do when they work how they work.<br/>There's a reason they are and aren't known. A reason that STRIKE team Delta is a phrase used to scare warlords and terrorists alike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Medical Hold-Restricted Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Dislcaimer: I do not own and for this I am ignoring Laura for reasons of making Clint and Nat both way to emotionally unstable to ever have the hope of holding a serious relationship with anyone.

    If there was one thing in the world that Clint Barton had to choose as the thing he hated the most, it would be medical leave. And his partner would answer the same. The two assassins, spy's, agents. Whatever you wanted to call them, were used to movement. Being told to rest and heal up for a few weeks was not something that they did. It just wasn't. 

    Honestly though, this time it was warranted and necessary. Not the resting part of course, but the being off active mission ready status long enough for bones and tendons to heal. Natasha had fractured her ankle in the hellicarier attack (something that her partner had apologized profusely for) as well as earning herself a nice set of bruised ribs from the battle. Her partner on the other hand, well he was generally banged up. Concussion, dislocated shoulder (not much, but enough to hurt), 3 cracked and a handful of bruised ribs, nasty deep tissue bruise on his hip/thigh, sprained knee that had almost been surgery worthy and 3 days worth of exhaustion and dehydration. Long story short, medical had them both on restricted for at least a month, probably more. But restricted did't mean inactive, and both of them had a mission to complete. They were both tasked with observing the Avengers in non-combat situations. They worked extremely well in the field together, but who knew how they could do watching football in the same room. 

    The Avengers were, first and foremost, a team. That had been cemented the moment they all decided to get food together after New York. Secondly though, they were an experiment. Teamed superhero's didn't have the best track record, but maybe these guys could change that. The X-men had begun the process of making teams look like a decent idea, but the Avengers weren't a group with a common link, aside from defeating Loki. They were not a group of mutants, or those of similar powers, and they weren't even all, in a traditional sense, Superheros. Two were just humans, albeit with very specific and honed skill sets, but humans non the less. One was barely more than that, a human with an electromagnet in his chest and more brains and money than any one man should have. There was the super solider, built to be what he had always wanted to become, a hero. And that he had. There is the scientist, human in one form and anything but in another, indestructible as far as he has found. And there is the God, at least as far as the human see him. To earth, Thor is the God of lightning, although at home he is just the prince, not a God, but normal for his kind. 

 

And this is how all those people became the team they never thought they could be. And how they found out that the weakest among them are the strongest. The most human are the most inhuman. The cruelest and the strongest. 

 

\----------------

 

    Half a week after the Battle of New York as it has been dubbed the two SHIELD agents are allowed to return to the tower, and begin their mission. They were ordered to act normal, not to act as if they were on a mission, because they, technically speaking, weren't. They were simply messengers, to report back to Director Fury any big events or mishaps. They are to be Clint and Natasha and Agents Barton and Romanov. They are not undercover. Its different for them, they are only ever themselves around each other. The person that is buried under kill rates and hit percentages, seduction and poison. 

     Natasha is sporting a walking boot on her ankle, much to her partners aggravation. Its a small fracture and won't be worsened by her walking on it. Clint is on crutches for at least another week or so, until his own leg can hold his weight without trying to buckle. 

     "Jarvis, where is Tony?" The red head asks as they enter the elevator, the patterned clicks of the crutches on tile masking the slightly heavier than normal step on her part. 

     "Sir is currently on the floor named 'The team room'. Shall I have you brought to that level?" Clint's eyes flick around the elevator as the voice sounds and Natasha feels a pang of guilt for not warning him about the AI.

     "Yes please. Thank you Jarvis." She turns to her partner. "He's a computer butler. An AI." 

      "Great, so the disembodied voice thing isn't just me?" He raises an eyebrow.

      "No. He's got speakers everywhere. Don't worry about it. Apparently before he went back to Asgard, Thor tried to fight Jarvis because he was in the walls." Her partner snort laughs at the statement before ending that quickly as he cuts off in a groan as it pulls at his ribs. 

     "Remind me not to laugh until at least next week." The elevator makes a ding and the doors open smoothly to reveal the half destroyed floor where they had faced Loki. "

     "You need to tell them about your...you know." She motions to the side of her head, dragging a finger from her ear to her jaw. 

     "Nat. If you won't even say it, I'm sure as hell not bringing it up. Besides, it doesn't affect how I work, you know that." He's not sensitive about the subject, most of the Agent's he's worked with knew about it, but that didn't mean that he told everyone. A few missions had gone bad because who ever he was working with didn't trust him to know what was going on. What was being said. 

     "Fine, I love watching you get annoyed." And she steps out of the elevator onto the smooth tile flooring. 

     "Agents Romanov and Barton." Jarvis announces as they enter the large room. 

     "We were wondering when you two would show up." Tony calls from the counter, pouring a bowl of cereal. Under normal circumstances that would not be noteworthy, what made it so was that it was 3:34PM. "Food?"

     "I think we're good Stark." Natasha answers, glances at her partner quickly and seeing that he is focusing on what is being said. 

     "Then sit down, you both look like you should be off your feet." He motions to the large couches set around the television. "Cap said he'd be right back, we were going to do a group movie night. Reminds me, I should go get Bruce." The two share a look before they both shrug and walk (or hobble) to the couches. 

      "If we watch something animated will you tell them?" She sticks her booted foot up on the table and he sets the crutches on the floor, left leg extended by the brace on his knee.

       "Well yeah. I'll ask for the" He signs two quick 'c' shapes at her. "to be turned on." Nat looks around and see's that Rodgers is entering the room from the elevator opposite the one they came in. 

      "Now look who isn't using specific words?" She sticks her tongue out at him and is met with a stone faced glare.

     "Oh, hi guys. Tony said you would be back today, but I wasn't sure." He grabs a seat on the side, closest to the coffee table. "Ouch, that looks like it hurt....both of you actually." He looks down at the table halfway through his statement, focusing on Natasha's leg for just a second. 

      "Nah, it's not too bad. Had way worse before, remember Tokyo Clint?" He groans at her statement and looks at Steve before replying.

      "I set off airport security for months after that. So did you, actually. Non-metallic pins my ass." He'd finally just given up and gotten them removed, as had his partner.

      "Pins?" The car wreck had wrecked the Agents as well as the SUV.

      "Yeah, two in her arm and three in my leg, although technically speaking, it was a plate and two screws." He clears his throat, wincing again and pressing a hand to his left side, where taped ribs hide under his loose shirt. "Car wreck on a mission, IED in the road outside Tokyo, luckily no one else was around, so it was only us that go banged up." That's about all that they are authorized to say about that mission, its above most of the clearance levels, they're only allowed to see the reports because they wrote them. 

      "Wow, that's....yeah I don't have a good response to that." So Rodgers has humor, Clint quickly catalogs. "So, it is my task to choose which movie we are forced to watch together today. Jarvis made a list and I have to choose from them, any suggestions?" 

     "Jarvis pull the list up on the TV for us." Natasha says easily as footsteps come up the stairs. Two sets, one is Stark.  "Okay, so looks like...hmm. Comedy or action?"

     "I think we've all had enough action this week." Jarvis removes the action listings, leaving comedy and drama. "Whats this one? How to train your dragon? That sounds good." Natasha shoots a look at her partner and he drops his head back.

    "Its a good movie." Bruce calls from the other end of the room, walking towards them at a moderate pace and Clint's head snaps toward the noise. 

     "Yeah, lets watch this one then. Jarvis?" Steve prompts and the title sequence begins to role across the screen as Tony and Bruce both find seats. There is enough room to comfortably fit at least 4 more people and both of the Agents are happy that they don't have to squish onto the couch. 

      "So this is the perfect opportunity." Natasha states in Russian, directed at Clint, who groans and drops his chin to his chest.

      "Fine." He replies in equally smooth Russian. " Okay, so." He switches back to English. "If we could turn the subtitles on that would be great." 

      "I don't see why not, but I also don't see why?" Tony cocks an eyebrow up at the archer.

      "I don't hear too well, and animated movies are hard to follow since I can't read their lips." He ends it with a shrug. 

      "When you say not too well...." Steve and Bruce both look interested now.

      "He means that he's practically deaf."

      "Nat!" He says indignantly.

      "What? You were taking too long to get there." She shrugs and makes a mock frown at the blonde.

      "Seriously?" Steve asks, movie paused in the back ground. 

      "Uh..yeah. My hearing is shit, but its not an issue. I'm not a liability." Ever since the injury, almost 8 years now, he's been worried about getting yanked from the field because he didn't hear the footsteps, or he couldn't tell where a noise came from. 

      "I didn't imply that you were. That it was." Steve sets his features and looks Clint in the eye. "A weakness, or anything of the sort, is not always a liability." 

      "Its not a weakness. Its not a liability. Do not treat me any different than you would have otherwise, and we won't have a problem." Bruce tilts his head slightly at the stern words.

      "I'm guessing you have hearing aids?" Tony steps in, change the topic, but not the subject. Something that he's perfected.

      "Yeah, I do. They don't fix it, but they help. Enough that I can function as hearing." Another shrug, he's had this conversation with a few people before.

      "I'll make you better ones. My real question is...what even is both of your status' right now as far as SHIELD goes? I've been digging in their files and both of you are listed as orange?" Natasha laughs and shares a glance with her partner.

       "I'm on medical hold, so restricted duty. Means I can do paperwork and hang around base, but I can't get sent out on a mission until I'm cleared fully." She gestures at her foot as an explanation, then to her partner as a sign for him to explain his own status.

       "I should be red, don't know why its orange, they might have not updated it yet. I'm on full hold, so nothing. I'm only allowed on base to go to the medical facilities and on Fury's orders, I'm pretty much on payed suspension until they figure out what to do with me." His voice drops off at the end, quiet in a way that Natasha recognizes as his nervous voice.

      "Wow, well, both of you are welcome to stay here. Steve and Bruce already are, so may as well have the whole group here." Tony flicks his wrist in the direction of the entertainment center and the movie starts playing again, this time with white subtitles scrolling along the bottom.


	2. An explanation of things

     The next morning finds Clint heavily limping around the kitchen trying to make coffee, and Natasha set at the counter. Steve walks in on the scene and has to double take. With how protective of her partner Black Widow was during the battle and before hand, Steve is surprised that she is allowing him to cause himself pain by walking around on his injured leg. He can tell that it is causing the archer pain, in the half hidden winces and bit off hiss when he steps too solidly.

      “Aren’t you on crutches?” Steve asks, and Clint turns to face him, a confused expression on his face.

      “Yes?” He asks as he turns to face the taller man. At Steve's pointed look at his leg, (visibly braced) Clint continues with,”Can’t make hot liquid with no hands though.” Unlike the night before Steve can see a set of strange looking hook like objects on the sides of Clint's head, attached to his ears, which he assumes are the agent’s hearing aids.

       “You don’t need to hurt yourself to make coffee. Sit down, I got breakfast covered.” Steve mimes shoeing the man to the counter, to which he moves toward slowly. “So, about...last night. I didn’t mean anything by any comment I may have made. Obviously, you don’t let anything get in your way, and I’m sorry if I offended you, I didn’t mean it.”

      “It’s fine. Really, Rodgers. I...get defensive when it comes up because I’ve had people think I was useless before because of it. I overreacted, you did nothing wrong.” He shrugs and reaches for the coffee cup across the counter, Natasha smirking and then looking down at her phone quickly.

       “I’m glad. Animosity would be a bad way to start this team off. I do have a few questions though, about both of you. Nothing serious or bad, just...getting to know you questions.” He pulls a bag of chopped potatoes from the freezer and turns a burner on as he talks, turning this way and that like he knows the kitchen well. A nod from Natasha and he continues. “Okay, I’m from Brooklyn, what about you guys?”

     “No where Iowa.” Clint rests his head forward on bent arms, like a kid asleep on a desk.

      “Russia, but I defected.” She sets her phone on the counter and shoots a look at her partner.

      “Thats cool. Quick question though, tell me if I’m being rude please, but Clint, is it easier if I face you when I talk?” He throws a few handfuls of the breakfast mix into the pan.

     “Yeah, it helps, but it's not necessary per-say. My aids are set up to capture sound in front of me, so its actually harder to figure out what you're saying from the side, than if you’re in front of me, but turned.” He shrugs and rolls his eyes. “Its not rude, what would be rude is making fun of something, or getting annoyed when I inevitably ask you to repeat something.”

       “Thank you. I was worried about overstepping boundaries, I don’t always translate well to this century.” He says and then grabs a spoon to stir the mix that is sizzling in the pan.

        “If you need to know and you're afraid Barton will put an arrow in you, just ask me.” Natasha takes a long sip of her own coffee.

         “Good to know. I speak English and Spanish, what about you?” The two assassins share a glance and Natasha sighs before starting to tick off on her fingers before speaking.

          “English, Russian, Farsi, Arabic, Spanish, French, German, Swahili. A bunch of others that aren’t at the native speaker level.” Natasha counts off in a monotone.

         “English, Russian, Arabic, Tagalog, and Cantonese at native speaker level. Mandarin and Spanish not too bad, a few others.” Clint is still leaned forward and his voice sounds slightly strained.

        “You okay?” Natasha bumps his shoulder and he groans. “Let me guess, you skipped your painkillers this morning?”

     “Yes, because they gave me Norco, and you know that shit makes me weird and nauseous.” he retorts.

     “Thats really impressive, I didn’t know it was possible to learn that many languages.” He adds some seasoning to the mix and opens the fridge to get a carton of eggs. “So, Romanov has you beat on that front Barton?”

     “Eh, yeah. She knows more languages than me, by a lot. But...it's kind of hard for me to learn new ones now, so I can’t catch up to her. I don’t care, there’s never been a situation where at least one of us couldn’t understand what was being said.” Natasha flicks his shoulder when he shrugs. “What? Its true.”

     “You don’t try hard enough, you could totally learn Farsi if you wanted to.” Steve notices that she turns her face toward him when she speaks.

     “Nat, I’ve explained this to you. But yeah, Steve, it's possible, SHIELD requires language skills in some of its positions, at least bi-lingual for a few and at least tri-lingual for others. Oh, both of us forgot ASL, there’s that. Not a spoken language but...it counts.” Four plates appear on the counter and the eggs are added to the pan.

     “ASL? Thats sign language right?” Clint nods and Natasha gets up and walks toward the fridge. “Makes for an easy way to communicate behind enemy lines?”

     “Or when he’s being stubborn.” She’s looking through the bottles on the door, Clint knows for orange juice.

      “Thats...actually something you should probably know. If I’m not responding to you calling my name, don’t touch me. Chances are I don’t have my hearing aids in, and touching me is liable to end with you on the ground.” He shrugs again and lifts his head up, taking another long sip of coffee.

      “Ah, yeah thats a much better reason to know sign language.”

       “Oh, don’t think we don’t use it for the other reason.” She seems to have found what she was looking for and reaches over the cabinet JARVIS had said held drinking containers. “What do you call that concoction in the pan?” It's potatoes, bell peppers, onions and seasoning, with eggs mixed in.

      “One dish meal. Its something easy that doesn’t make a whole lot of mess. Found it online, gotta love the internet.” He scoops some onto three of the four plates and sets one down in front of where each of the spies were sitting, taking one for himself and putting the lid back on the rest. “Whenever you cook, leave some for Tony. He gets pouty if it smells like food but he didn’t get any.”

     “The internet is amazing and I’ll take that under advisement.” Clint sits up fully with a slight groan and grabs the offered fork. “No, seriously though, I can tell you have questions. Just ask, its okay.” He’s explained the situation to so many random agents over the years that the pestering questions aren’t as annoying anymore.

     “If you’re sure.” A nod from the archer. “So...last night, you needed the captions on because you didn’t have your..hearing aids in?”

      “Nah, I’ve got two sets. These, that you can see, and ones that you can’t.” He says around a mouthful of the mix. “This is good Rogers.”

      “Thanks, its super easy, you saw. That makes sense, I guess. So, when you two go on missions, are you always together?” Natasha sits back down with her glass of juice.

     “No, we both do solo’s as well, but...a lot of times, yes. We are partners, so it makes sense to try and get both of us on the ground where they need us.” Steve pours himself a cup of coffee and sits down across from the two.

     “Okay. Sorry, I feel like I’m pestering you two, but...I have to know, curiosity and all. When you go undercover do you pretend that you aren’t deaf?”

     “Sometimes, majority actually. There are some..situations where it comes in handy though. A lot of people, if they know someone is...disabled,” He spits the word out like it's a curse. “They tend to think that means less than. Sometimes its good to be underestimated, people see these,”  He flicks a hand to the side of his head. “They think I’m stupid or something.”

     “How does that compute? Hearing has nothing to do with intelligence.” Steve looks genuinely confused.

      “People assume that every genetic disorder that affects hearing also affect learning, so thats the stereotype people have in their heads.”

     “Is that what happened to you...a genetic disorder?”

     “No. I uh...I got too close to an explosion awhile back. Blew my eardrums to shreds, fucked up the inner ears on both sides. Couldn’t walk in a straight line for a month.” Natasha is acting like she’s ignoring the conversation next to her, eating her breakfast silently and flipping through her phone.

     “Wow, that must of sucked.” Clint scoffs at the statement. “So, how does it work? The whole...not hearing thing? I mean, if you couldn’t understand the T.V. then how do people believe that…”

     “You aren’t going to be tested on what the show is saying, and I can read lips and hear well enough with my aids in to pass. I only really have problems when there’s a lot of background noise. Everything is amplified, so all the little background noises that you ignore, I can’t really. Because a background hum might be a soft spoken voice. And most of the covers I do, its easy to pass off as distraction or mild loss. Something that no one would question.”

    “Thats impressive. Is that why it’s harder to learn new languages for you than for her?”

     “Yeah, I don’t do inflection on sounds well at all. I mean, I could totally learn to read and write in something, but speaking it with a decent accent is just not going to happen.”

     “That bullshit and you know it. You learned Russian after you lost your hearing.” Natasha leans in and says loudly, right next to Clint as he’s facing Steve, causing a small flinch and for him to close his eyes before turning slowly to face her.

     “Woman, I will hit you.” Turning back to Steve, equally slowly. “She does this. And that's not entirely true. I knew like...20 words before hand.”

     “Yeah, cuss words and insults.” She leans back to her previous position.

     “So, wait, you did learn Russian afterwards? So, as Miss Romanov said, you could learn Farsi, right?” Clint shrugs and swallows the last bite of his food.

     “Technically, I probably could. But there is no way in hell I’d be able to match the accent, because I’ve never really heard it. Russian, that was different, I’d heard it before, a lot, so I know what it sounds like undistorted.”

     “Undistorted?” Steve finishes his own plate off while Clint talks.

     “Yeah, mechanical. Like...everything sounds like a shitty cell phone connection to me. Not like, a super bad one, but bad enough.”

     “That...actually that makes a lot of sense. I assumed that, when you said that you had hearing aids they were similar to glasses, they take the place of what doesn’t work right. I never would have guessed that, since technology is so..advanced now, that they couldn’t just..fix it.”

     “Wish they could, but thats one of those things, it's broken yeah, it can’t be fixed 100%, but, it can be helped. Like...wrapping a sprained ankle, it's not going to heal it, but it supports it. Thats probably not a great analogy to the guy that heals from broken bones in 48 hours.”

     “I get the comparison all the same. I’ll take your plate, you should probably take your pain medication, she seems like one to retaliate when you don’t look after yourself.”

     “You have no idea. Not going to follow that suggestion, but yeah, she’s possessive, aren’t ya’ Nat?”

     “If you die no one has their eyes on my back. Keeping you alive is watching out for number one.” She replies without moving at all. “Steve, don’t fall for his poor deaf guy routine. He hears a lot more than he’ll admit to.”

 


	3. Late Night Reading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is a watcher, he always has been. This is what he see's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uggghhh, i am so sorry i thought i posted this like 2 months ago and I didnt and I feel horible

  ****

Bruce Banner is not a people person. He can pretend, but he is definitely not a social flower. He likes his lab, and Tony’s company in it, but one or two others is different then a whole mess of people, who are supposed to be a team, all crammed into the living room at once. He likes to be alone (sometimes) and he likes his space (always).

    Clint and Natasha are much the same. Bruce is an observer, it comes from being a tad bit anti-social. He likes to watch those he is supposed to interact with, to see what they like and dislike. Natasha Romanoff is a good pretender. Her partner rarely tries. The Black Widow will act acclimated, will joke with those she knows how to joke with, specifically speaking Clint and Tony. She looks, and might be, comfortable in the common space wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. She appears relaxed, but obviously isn’t (to someone who knows what to look for). She observes too, but not as much as Bruce, at least not as obviously. She watches what Steve and Thor and Tony do with a critical eye, and she watches Bruce almost wearily. Clint, on the other hand, does not make any attempt to fit in. He sits off to the side when everyone is there, slightly farther back and fading into the background. Natasha will force him into the conversation, but he is never fully part of whatever is going on. He is like Bruce. He watches, observes. Clint Barton does not try (or maybe he doesn’t know how) to interact with the other is a maner seen as normal. If he was a child, Bruce would wonder if he was autistic. But, he doesn’t show any other signs of it, so Bruce quickly drops the idea. His second theory is that it has something to do with his hearing impairment, that he sits back so he can read everyone's body language better. That theory is still on the table. Or, perhaps, like Banner, he is simply uncomfortable in large groups. Snipers are solitary, often just the eyes above, with no one watching them and their eyes on everyone. And Clint is, if nothing else, a sniper. A marksmen, and the best at what he does. He has taken shooting (and yes, both with a gun and his preferred bow) and made it into an art form (the range has a camera, and it's amazing). Bruce knows that Clint talks to Natasha, and he will interact with the others, but he prefers to watch.

Bruce Banner is also a nosey git. He pulls the files from the hacked server Tony has, and spends a night reading through each of his new ‘teammates’ lives. What he finds is, in a word, appalling. Its also varied. Not much a file exists for Thor (unsurprisingly), and what is there is referring to an event in New Mexico regarding a hammer (probably his hammer). Tony’s file is full. It has every big event from his birth to the day of the New York attack. It has X-rays of his chest and a set of radiograms for his lungs and heart as well. There are notes all over the file about possible ADHD and how bad the results of medication at age 10 were. There’s a note from a psychiatrist that cleared him after Afghanistan and a report saying he was not fit for the Avengers initiative. Steve’s file is mostly public knowledge, with a few more numbers and statistics (the numbers that Bruce has always wanted to know about the super soldier). There’s a few reports from SSR medical stating that Steve is ‘a fully healthy male specimen’, then later a note from SHIELD medical stating that Steve might still be asthmatic, but they can’t figure out to trigger it and he won’t admit it. They just know that after he woke up he had to sit down to breath for a few minutes, but was then fine. Natasha’s file reads like a spy novel from the 1960’s. She’s like the Russian James Bond. Trained from childhood to be a spy, a killer. She was Red Room. And she was the best they had. Until five years ago, when she defected from Russia, left three of her trainers dead and choose to go to SHIELD, with Clinton Barton. She was analyzed and tested and forced to give up all the secrets she had ever known. She did it. Bruce couldn’t figure out why, but she had. It said she broke her programming. He didn’t know what that meant, but the before and after psychological profiles made him happy that she did. All the time she’d been a part of SHIELD her main partner had been Barton, her handler Philip Coulson, and part of a team called STRIKE Delta. The medical logs said she had proper care for any injuries when she was a child,and that had continued when she joined the organization. She seemed to heal at an accelerated rate, but not as fast as Rogers did. Her mission completion rating was 98%, and was, apparently, the highest currently. Clint’s file was thick. Longer than Natasha’s, and harder to read. Born in Waverly, Iowa to Edith and Harold Barton, he had average grades in school, until about the third grade, when they suddenly dropped, only to pick up again about a year later. There were notes from teachers, asking for an investigation into the family, as both him and his brother often came to school sore and bruised (Bruce understood that). Hospital records showed multiple instances of twisting injuries, and one severe head injury that cause temporary deafness around his third grade year (coinciding with the lower scores). Orphaned at age 8, and sent to a boys home with his then 11 year old brother, Charles Bernard. He was tossed around between homes for 2 years before him and his brother ran away. They weren’t found (were barely looked for). His name showed up a few years later, in a circus ad. Performing amazing feats of marksmanship with a bow and arrow, as the amazing Hawkeye. Carson Carnival was later investigated in a rash of home and office burglaries, often times resulting in non-fatal wounds to guards, made by arrows. At age 17, as an emancipated minor with a GED he’d joined the army. The in processing audiogram showed slight damage to his hearing, but not enough to disqualify him. He quickly became the US government's go to guy for hard shots and watching from up above, earning the highest scores ever at ranger school after two years enlisted. He never finished his initial contract. Right before he was going to have to renew his enlistment contract, the humvee he was in was attacked. There was an IED explosion, and only two people survived. Clint Barton and his commanding officer. The officer was transferred to a facility in germany to recuperate from multiple injuries. Clint was discharged on medical grounds almost immediately. SHIELD picked him up the same day he was cleaning out his bunk. The next document is an audiogram that SHIELD had done, and it shows his hearing loss to be near the severe category. The army no longer wanted him, but SHIELD knew an opportunity when they saw it. They took the ex-carnie Ranger sniper and made him into a spy. He went through 3 handlers in his first year alone, before being put into the ‘hard to deal with’ group of assets and placed under Coulson. He was liable to ignore his own body, pushing past acceptable pain and injury thresholds to complete simulations and missions alike. He was also the current record holder of the range score and tactical analysis tests. Some of SHIELD’s top scientist had sent him requests for project and mathematical advice. His ASVAB score was listed as ‘not applicable’ in the SHIELD files, but as 94 in the army one. His hearing was tested once a year, and after initially seeming to heal, improving to only mild/moderate loss, it had steadily fallen a few decibels a year since then, and there was a note from a doctor suggesting ‘alternative solutions’ in the upcoming years. He was supposed to kill Romanova, but came back to the extraction point with her. He was also part of STRIKE delta.

Bruce Banner did not read his own file, he was there. He knows that he shares parts of a past with one of his team members. He wishes he didn’t. The abusive father (or maybe mother?) and the process of being a ward of the state.

**He also knows a bit more about all the people he is supposed to be friends with, and work with, and fight with (again and again apparently, judging by the whole Avengers initiative file he found).**


	4. What Are We Really?

“What did Natasha mean by her comment that you hear more than you say you do?” Steve corners Clint in the kitchen a week after the comment is made.

“Knew that was gonna come up.” The archer looks tired, bags under his eyes so dark they look like bruises, a heaviness to his shoulders that speaks of sleepless nights and stressful days. The crutches are gone, but his leg is still braced by an uncomfortable looking metal apparatus. “She’s wrong. Nat...she has a fundamental mistrust of people and a technical misunderstanding of how deafness works.”

“And that means?” Clint looks down at his feet for a second, seeming a bit...nervous, or maybe shy.

“It means she assumes that since I can understand her, and some of the other agents, I can understand anyone.She’s wrong. But, she is also right.” A self conscious shrug. “When me and her had this conversation, she was right, I did hear a lot more than I...admitted to, or more accurately, more than I processed.” Its obvious he’d had this conversation at one time or another, and not for the first time Steve wonders who Hawkeye’s handler is. “So, when in complete honesty, I ask someone to repeat something, or can’t identify a noise, she thinks I’m...sandbagging. Keeping something close to the belt, adding a little spy magic to it to make people think that I’m as stupid as they think I am.”

“But you are deaf.” He says it as a statement, not a question, since it’s so obviously true. 

“Severely hard of hearing, yes.” Synonyms? “Don’t tell Natasha.”

“But she knows?” Now he’s confused.

“No, she doesn’t. Not really anyways. She knows that without my hearing aids in, I can’t understand people talking...I’m not the best at lip reading. But, she doesn’t know quiet how bad it's gotten.” Something tells Steve that Clint needs to get this off his chest, that he’s been holding off on this confession for a really long time. 

“How’d it even happen?” Was he born deaf? Was it something that happened later?

“I was overseas, the humvee my unit was in...it got blown up. Two of us survived.” He acted military, but Steve thought that was just SHIELD training, not actually military experience. “My CO, he uh...ended up in a coma for 2 months, turns out he had brain damage, when he woke up, he had this thing that's kind of like OCD, but...not. I lost a sense. I used to be a lot more...self conscious about it, a lot more...leave it alone. But, 8 years is a long time, and I’ve told the story enough that it's not a problem anymore. Hell, you're the last one to ask out of this group. Nat...she doesn’t know that it's getting worse because I can’t put that on her. She...was such a big part of me finally getting over myself and dealing with it...I can’t let her know that depending on how the next 3 years go, I could be out of the field in less than that. Course, that might not be a problem now, what with the whole ‘ Barton might be crazy and about to kill us all’ thing.” Steve sees the utter pain in the smaller man's eyes, the weight of the confession leaking out even through the Agent guards. Steve would think it's all spy games, that this doesn’t actually hurt Clint, but the man is too exhausted and the emotion is too raw to be fake. 

“It’ll be okay. From what I’ve learned about you and your partner since we met, she doesn’t think you’re going crazy, or that you already are. Romanov won’t desert you.” Barton nods, small and thoughtful, like he’s trying to accept it.

 

\--------------------------------------------------

“Hey Bruce?” Tony turns and waves a hologram towards the other scientist. “Have you seen this report?” It shows a bloodied Clint and Natasha standing at the center of a ring of dead bodies, his bow drawn and her guns aimed. 

“No, what's it of?” The image is gruesome, bodies spread out like burnt ants, arrows in some, bullet holes in others. At least 20 dead, and yet at the center, two SHIELD agents, looking determined and ready to go again. 

“Our two resident super assassins. This was last year in Boca Raton. Says they took down a camp of 26 terrorist weapons smugglers. This is the picture that SHIELD pulled from the security system once they got out of there. Bruce...those two are dangerous.” As if he didn’t already know that.

“Well yeah. You saw them in new York, I saw the footage. Clint almost took down the freaking helicarrier with one arrow before that. We knew they were dangerous, why is it a shock?” Although, 26 highly trained smugglers against 2 SHIELD agents did seem incredible. 

“Okay, true. But still...26 people they took out. Twenty six. By themselves, with no back up and no extraction plan. And the after pick up medical report? Jesus, those two may as well be Steve.” Tony’s voice betrays his shock as he slides another holo over to the physicists station. “She had 4 cracked ribs, a stab wound to the thigh that the blade was still in, multiple slices that needed stitches and 3 broken fingers. He on the other hand, had a small tear in his rotator cuff, the left one if you were wondering, a concussion, enough bruising on his back to need x-rays, and a hairline fracture to the left wrist.” Bruce reads through the information as Stark rattles it off. 

“Says their handler didn’t approve the mission in the first place. Both of them ended up on administrative suspension for a month after it all went down.” The X-rays and other medical scans showed Bruce more than they showed Tony, they told the story of multiple fractures accuring over life, breaks on the same sites, areas that had already started to show signs of arthritis.

“They’re loose cannons.” It's not accusing, because it's the truth.

“I don’t think so. Look at the acquisition report.” A list of names and ages, all under 12. “The camp wasn’t just weapons, they were smuggling kids.” They’d had a reason.

“They still killed 26 people in an afternoon, while injured.” Tony can’t process killing 26 people up close, even though he knows his old weapons could do a hundred times that, or a thousand, but he was never the one pulling the trigger. 

“They also saved over 30 lives that same afternoon, not to mention any kids that group would take in the future, or any lives those weapons would have cost.” 


	5. Gym Class Heros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who are they really? The comments, the secret pasts. Steve knows two things for certain: 1] The army doesn't train people to fight like Hawkeye fights 2] There's a history between the two spies that reaches past a common career

The gym area of the tower is much the same as it has been since the lights were first turned on in the skyscraper. A full size boxing ring, 3 heavy bags of variable weight, a few machines. It’s the only area of the tower that isn’t 100% maximum in everything it encompasses. 

Steve loves it. He loves the relative simplicity compared to the rest of the tower, the feel that the room has, slightly open but full all the same. Its open concept, but not overly large. There’s space for more equipment to be added, but not so much as it feels empty all the time. 

There’s one thing that the gym has that Steve does not like, not one bit. And that is the two spies working out in one corner. It's not that he doesn’t like the company, or their mere presence in the gym, it's that both of them are injured and probably should not be even thinking about working out at the level they are currently. 

“So, how’s medical hold?” He throws out with a hint of sarcasm, seeing Natasha turn almost immediately, and the archer only respond after seeing her do so.

“Horrid.” She replies, no sarcasm and all hard consonant sounds. She taps a finger curved into a hook behind her ear and Clint gives a half shrug and walk/limps to the edge of the padded area. 

“Should I be concerned that you two are down here? Or, is Fury okay with this?” He knows that the director probably has some hand in dealing with these two, and their seemingly endless stream of frustration that the organization they work for has yet to place them both back on duty.

“I wouldn’t say he approves fully, but he knows.” The blonde man chimes in as he fills in the void next to his partner. Steve has realized they are like puzzle pieces, cut to fit all jagged edges together seamlessly. “ ‘sides, Nat goes back out into the field in 2 weeks. She needs the physio and I like to help.” He doesn’t smirk, there’s no sarcasm in his voice, but there is exhaustion. 

“What about you? Any word yet on when you’ll be good to go back?” He tries to make it sound like he isn’t pushing or prying, and the expression that flicks across the marksmen's face tells Steve that he succeeded.

“No. They uh...still trying to figure out what to do with me.” A small shrug and a noncommittal noise. “Psych won’t clear an eval until medical releases me, so I don’t have any clue of when per say. Or if.” The last bit is added with a sharp twist to it. Harsh intonation on the last word gives away his fear.

“You’ll make it. If how you fought in New York is any indication of a normal day's work, then they can’t fire you.” Back in the war, with the Howling Commando’s and the other soldiers he worked with, Rogers was this a few times. A soldier told he couldn’t fight any more, a country so desperate for its best that the word was overturned and he went to shoot another Nazi. What Clint Barton is going through, Steve has seen before, maybe not in the exact same circumstances, but he has. The look of sadness and anger at waiting to see if those that employ you still see you as useful enough to keep around or if you’re just another black stamp and a ‘unsteady’ notice is the files. If you’ll disappear into the winds of forgotten sons that once fought on the front lines. And knowing this man's story, how he’s been a soldier, and already had that ‘unfit to fight’ tag attached to him once, it makes Steve hurt to see him go through it. He may not know these people well, but he knows them enough, and he trusts them with his life already. He trusts the man before him, with the metal framing his injured leg and the purple hearing aids barely visible behind his ears. He also trusts the women, the red hair and almost unbelievable healing factor (if his own was not better), that stands beside the person that she has claimed as her best friend, as her partner. The other half of her jagged jigsaw puzzled edge. Rogers trusts her as well, and he can see in her eyes, in the way she holds herself that she will fight, tooth and nail, so be back at her partners side. To have him being her eyes above, or the voice on the other side of the radio. 

“Thanks, but I’m not so sure that's as true as you believe it to be.” He looks..not scared or nervous, but apprehensive is the best way to put it. “My employment at SHIELD has always been...rocky. More so the last few years, since a certain...mission gone sideways. There’s a few higher ups that have looking for a reason to dispose of me since I signed my first contract. And...this is just the fuel to their fire that they’ve been looking for.” Steve can see the truth in the statement, he’s always been good at reading people and even the two spies (when they aren’t trying) are translucent to him. “So, I’ve got good reason to start looking for more...alternative employment.” There’s the smirk. The one that’s been absent since that afternoon in the ashes of chitauri cruisers.

“And if it does come to that, well SHIELD will be down all of Strike team Delta, and the..people we both used to run with will be running for cover.” Romanoff smirks too, scary and true. “It could be fun.”

To-Do list:

Look up Hawkeye / Black Widow records [who are they really]


	6. Offically (Not) Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well damn....its been a while and I am so sorry, so...uh, I don't like it but I don't usually like what I write so...here you go

          Medical releases the archer a few weeks after the conversation with Steve in the gym, and he's placed on 'non-mission critical restricted availability', which pretty much meant 'use him but don't break him again, because then we're going to need him longer. He's not 100% healed physically, but he's getting closer every 2 weeks when he's got his medical appointment (he refused SHIELD physio, because they'd put him on the 10 week program due to injury type and the fact its like the 3rd almost surgery worthy injury he's had on that knee). Psych is another beast altogether, he has been seeing them, and yes it's helping, he's getting a few hours of sleep a night, which while not nearly enough is more than he'd been getting in the weeks directly after the incident. They put him on 'active restriction barring tentative evaluation', a convoluted way of telling him he's fucked up in the head bad enough to maybe never get cleared fully. He's got bad news for his partner though, the ones who's been on a SHIELD mission for the last half week and just got back last night.

           "Hey Nat." She looks good, the color that had drained from her face is back, the spark in her eyes. "So, med cleared me a little bit... Restricted available... But, it's something right?"

           "And psych?" She knows the answer, as soon as he's cleared she'll be notified.

           "Nat... this afternoon the wsc got a hell of a big check mark in their count against me." Her eyes fall and her mouth opens slightly. "It's officially been long enough to... to call it what it is. And they're pinning me for it. I've got Fury on my side, you, a few other higher ups. PTSD gets them what they want, it's on the list of disqualifying factors. Which I now meet the qualifications for 3, maybe even 4 of." It takes 2 to officiate a termination notice.

           "Fury's fighting for you to stay. Still. Your contact is still in place isn't it?" She doesn't let her face betray her.

           "Yeah. Termination goes through and I'm in worse than super max until I die. Unless I escape, which…well you’ve met me." He shrugs, and runs his fingers through his hair, flipping the switch on the coffee pot to off, and pouring a large cup.

             "They can't. You have proved that their list is shit. Non of your check marks mean anything…do they?" The new one might.

             "The…the new one might, but…I'm definitely doing a lot better, than I was." He shrugs, taking a long drink. "You know that, been like what? At least 5 days since I woke you up in the middle of the night. At least, nights you've been here." He's keeping something from her. She can always tell with him, even with all his spy tricks. "But…Fury had a suggestion."

             "And?" She nudges carefully, since she knows how he gets, even without the label attached to it that he's got now, Clint's always needed a softer hand when being shoved at something. He thinks he's being forced and he'll shut down, most times he knows what's happening, but it still helps.

             "I meet the qualifications for reassignment to a handler position. And…handlers don't have the same WSC list. Going through with a reassignment…it would mean that 3 of my check marks don't matter anymore. The…deaf thing, the comm thing, and the new thing."

               "Well…if that’s something you need to do, then do it. But I want a copy of your employment contract first, I have an idea as well." She really does have an idea, and a good one.

               "That doesn't involve me having a desk job? And occasionally helping out the Avengers? Because I'm not dropping this team if I can avoid it." She see's him switch his hearing aids off, not that its uncommon (he doesn't like them most of the time).

                 "SHIELD hired you with your..disability."

                 "I'm not disabled." He spits it out. Clint hates the word and its always a good way to get him riled up.

                 "The WSC says you are. But yet, they allowed you to be hired, with such a contract as you have. Now, in my mind, that means that they can't check the lose of sense box, because you didn't incur the injury while in their employment." She shrugs, leans back on the counter and makes sure he's looking straight at her when she says the next part. "And you didn't disobey a direct order when you saved me, Fury said never to let you know this, but Coulson…he rewrote the directive. You were under orders to escort a possible asset."

                 "You being the asset. Oh my God Nat, that’s insane. And that means I've still got 2 checks even if it is arguable that my hearing lose doesn't count." His eyes go downcast, and his fingers work back to the buttons, unmuting the world for him. "I've got a confession. But, it starts with a question. How bad is my hearing?"

                   "Not nearly as bad as you like people to believe. That’s why you don't really need your hearing aids to be functional." She's so wrong, and it adds to his repertoire that he was able to fool her for so long.

                   "That’s a lie. When we met, yes, you would be right. And maybe even for a few years after that. But its wrong now. Nat…its been a lot worse than that for…years. I can function because I have to. Because over the last 6 years I've gone from being able to understand loud noises, identify where sounds are coming from, to not being able to understand voices, even with amplification. Nat, I didn't tell you because you didn't need to know. I can deal with it." She looks angry at first, green eyes hardening into emeralds. And then she's wrapped around him in a hug that surprises him, causes the coffee to splash from the cup onto the counter. She doesn't show emotion often, but when she does, Clint has to say she gives some of the best hugs ever.

                       "O.K." Her fingers tell him all he needs to know. She might be upset that he didn't tell her, but she's telling him it will be alright, they'll figure it all out.

                       "I start handler training next Tuesday. But…Fury promised me you and the Avengers, and I'll be a field handler. So really, just a supervisory agent, which….already am so no difference really." He'd been promoted years ago to supervisory agent, Coulson and Hill seeing his potential and wanting other teams to take his tactical planning skills under advisement, instead of as backseat comments.

                         "Good luck. And good." She pulls back far enough so he can see her face, and then leans her head back on his shoulder. It's not romantic, but she's claiming him. Letting him know (and anyone who sees) that she's not letting this separate them. And you know…she knows hugs make him feel better (he won't admit it but there's a reason they aren't allowed to bring dogs back to base and that reason is Clint cuddling the damn things and getting fur on his gear).


	7. Technically; Sociopathic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint comes back different, Natasha has seen this man before, the one in the skin of her partner but not nearly him. The rest of them are just confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the last 12 hours I have written this chapter 3 times  
> the first didn't save because my internet crapped out and I was using google docs  
> the second one just plain sucked, I mean I hate this version but man it was bad  
> and this is the third...hopefully it works

 

            He's gone for nearly 2 months, longer than Nat expected. And when he does come back he's lost weight, his hair is longer and darker and despite being nearly healed there's a shadow of a bruise at his jaw. His limp is still there, but its slight enough that you'd miss it unless you're looking for it. In short, he looks like hell. And the exact opposite of what Agents returning from handler upgrade look like. And he shocks Natasha, instead of walking straight to her and making one of his inappropriate jokes, he enters the newly renovated room, looks around and walks to Steve, with only a slight nod at his partner.

            "Captain, I'd like to inform you that despite all of SHIELD trying, you are still in charge of this team. And I'd like to request the honor of trying out for a position in your ranks." He's too formal, too wrong. Its wrong. Clint isn't like this, he isn't formal or respectful or any of the customs or courtesies the army tried to instill in him years ago. This isn't Clint, at least not the way he is now. This is programmed Barton, this is how he is when he shuts down.

              "Steve...send him out. Now." She cuts in before the all American hero can tell him to sit down and join the meeting. This Clint needs to cool off, he needs to slowly integrate.

               "Agent Romanoff I believe I was addressing Captain Rogers, not yourself. And need I remind you that disrespect of a senior Agent is punishable under instruction 17.6.2B?" Yeah, he's gone.

               "You...don't need to try out, you've been on this team since the moment it was formed. As for Ms. Romanoff's request, you may join us or leave, it is your choice." Steve looks at the red head, reads the message in her eyes and understands. She needs her partner back far more than anything else.

                "Thank you, I will be stepping out though, if that is recommended, she isn't one you should strive to make angry." And he's gone, turning on his heal quickly and escaping through the door.

                  "Am I the only one seriously confused right now? I mean, he was an asshole before but...and he looks like shit." Stark looks about ready to decapitate whoever did this to their archer. "Whatever SHIELD did to him, whoever did it, they're going to have to answer for this."

                   "He's been programmed. Broken and built. When they...sent him to training something must have happened. They must have realized he was still more valuable as a field asset than as a handler." She says it in the same monotone her partner had spoken in, like reading from a manual. "When assets are first brought into SHIELD they undergo interrogation and, sometimes, programming. Originally he was deemed to not need programming, so they allowed him to move forward as the sarcastic sociopath he is. But, I guess now they thought it might fix what that megalomaniac dick broke. When I was brought in, they deprogrammed me, and over time I was programmed. Not in the same manner as the more volatile assets, since I'd never had the opportunity to create my own personality. They molded it." She says it like it doesn't bother her, using all her spy tricks to keep her tone even. Its one of the hardest things for her to speak about.

                       "And this...programming? It turns people into asshole sticklers?" She shrugs. "Well that's just great, we have a SHIELD robot with perfect aim Better hope none of us forget to do our homework." Humor. Its how Stark functions, and it actually does seem to work. Sometimes lightening the mood when it seems darkest.

                        "Programming is different for each person. They might add traits to some people, take away from others. Some people they'll wipe completely and start over again because they are too messed up or dangerous or they know too much. Clint is...about as close to a textbook psychopath as you can get without actually being one. So far, that's worked to his advantage. You all need to know that that man? Especially as he is right now, is one of the most manipulative individuals you will ever meet."

                           "What do you mean by that? Compartmentalization or actually psychopathic traits?" Bruce chimes in, trying to understand the explanation that the female agent is giving.

                         "He isn't one, not really. But...lowered emotional responses to certain stimuli, yes. That is the truth. Death, blood...fear. It doesn't effect him, or me really, how it would a normal person. I was born of violence and conceit, so I never developed to fear or be confused by it. He was molded in much the same way. And, as I'm sure you'll find multiple studies saying, young childhood development is the most important for emotional and social health. For those of us without that, well we don't feel or express in the same manner. The best thing to do right now is to forget he's even here. I've dealt with programmed agents before, and eventually their old self begins to show through, even if they never truly go back to normal. Since Clint started out...closer to how they left him? I'm confident he might return to a similar state as he was when we all last saw him." She hopes to hell and back that she's right. She can't do this again, not with him. She already thought she lost him once to Loki, and that was bad enough, but losing him again, and this time to the organization she calls home? That would end any loyalties she might have.

\------------------

 

                "Agent Romanoff, can I speak to you?" Clint still doesn't look like Clint, even after a week of staying in the tower. His hair is still longer than it normally is and even Natasha's keen eyes haven't spotted his purple hearing aids yet, meaning he doesn't trust them enough to allow them to see his weakness, or that he's in tactical mode 24/7. She steps off to the side where he is. "I have a few questions for you. Why do you seem so determined to undermine the others decisions? They trust you and you are using that against them. And secondly, why are you so insistent on calling me by my first name?" There's inflection at the end, something his words have been lacking since he got back.

                "To the first, I am not undermining them. Its an exercise, and its my job to get under their skin, to get into all the little crevices they think are covered. And to the second, I know you and once you remember who you really are, and how you really act around us? Around me? You'll know why I call you your first name Clint." She walks away and back into the hologram ring, throwing curses and insults that somehow always hit home.

 

And Clint watches. He knows all these people, can tell you everything about them. That doesn't mean he trusts them, or wants to be 'friends' or even particularly likes any of them. It's all a waste of time unless its for a job, a means to an end, and he's confused as to why he ever wasted his time being cordial around them. Or around anyone actually, this is a lot easier, a lot less effort and a lot easier to watch and assess. Being cleared for field asset was...good. It made him useful again, made the most sense for the big picture. Security and safety for all of those that SHIELD protects. He doesn't smile, that would be wasted, a useless social gesture for those simple enough to rely on them to function.

       


	8. May as Well be Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so nat might seem OOC in this chapter, but imagine you are trying to accept that your best friend is basically dead, but you have to see his face every day...

   Natasha breaks 3 days after that conversation. She can't deal with this, this broken shell of her partner. He's not human like this, brutally honest and completely unpredictable. Clint isn't this, he's dark humor and random ASL when he's struggling for words. This is a humorless shell wearing his face. Clint is spilled coffee and mismatched socks and tripping over his own feet. This is neat and sharp and agile.

     "Stop being an asshole Barton." She barks out from across the gym. "You know what? Let's spar." Natasha disappears and the Black Widow takes over.

     "Alright." He removes his boots and socks, sliding under the ropes and into the ring to join her. "3 rounds, all goes."

     "Perfect." There's something feral in her smile, something that makes Steve pause. They make eye contact, nod, and then it begins.

     It's much less of a dance and much more of a brawl than the others are expecting. Its like watching the fight on the carrier, except this time she's not holding back and he's not fighting Loki off in his brain. No punches are held, no weaknesses unaccounted for, he trips her, she retaliates with a brutal grab for his wrist. Its like watching 2 caged animals fight, brutal and vicious. Its interesting for the others, they tend to see her as unmatched in hand to hand, yet this fight is proving that opinion wrong. He's not only holding her off, but landing hits of his own as well. Its not until near the end of the second round that the Black Widow seems to have an upper hand. She lands an open palm squarely on his left ear, there's an almost unperceivable change to his eyes, he shakes his head, once...twice…and she's got him. She went for the blow she knows would stun even this bastard version of Clint. His ears. Never before when they spar has she gone for that, she respects Clint too much, knows her Clint too well, to do that to him. She pins the larger man, knowing she's won, but before letting him up she growls out a statement that sounds more like a threat than anything else.

       "Give me my best friend back."

\--------------------------------

 

     A few hours later Steve finds her laying on the floor of the gym, music playing through the speakers. She's perfectly still except for a pattern being tapped out by her left hand.

     "I hurt him." Its soft, with a hint of the Russian accent she long ago abandoned. "I wanted to, and I did, but it still feels wrong."

     "This Barton, it really isn't him much is it?" Steve sits down next to her.

     "That's the problem, it is him. This…asshole impersonating my best friend…it’s the Clint I met years ago. This sociopath…he's the one who recruited me on a kill order. My first year at SHIELD, that’s the man I reported to, this one, who can't understand social customs or niceties…it is him." She looks over at Steve, making eye contact before continuing. "He's still there, I can see it in his eyes."

     "Look Natasha, I don't know who he was, or even really who he is, but what I do know is that if anyone could fix this? Its you." She allows a small smile to flicker across her features. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

     "Let him see you interacting with the others. Remember when I said he's basically a sociopath? Well, before? It wasn't like this, he wasn't being forced to act a certain way, he was just…scared."

     "Scared?" The music fades out before the next song, a classic he knows he's heard before, takes its place.

     "Yes. Scared, of interaction, of being himself. Of people seeing anything but the critical and precise master marksman, he didn't…know how to be himself because for so long he wasn't allowed to be. And I get it, I was trained to interact, to blend in or to stand out. While I was being coached into a mask of perfection she was being shoved into the center ring of a big top." She laughs a little. "I was dancing ballet with diamonds in my ears and he was shooting bulls eyes with bruises."

     "I think I get it, as well as I can really. And Natasha, I'm sure you didn't hurt him."

     "I hit his worse ear, the one that took the full brunt of the damage. I don't do that. Clint, he really, really hates people getting close to his head, especially his ears." She isn't saying anything that Steve didn't already know.

     "Ah, so not physical hurt but emotional." Her eyes close and the fingers tap out a complex beat with the music.

   "Exactly. Except Clint would have reacted, and this fucking imposter didn't." Her voice takes on the accent again. "And that means I might be wrong. Maybe he is gone."


	9. Pretending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Nanowrimo just finished kicking my ass   
> here's a chapter  
> hopefully i'm better at updating now  
> we'll see how that goes

   The reflection isn't right, somehow it seems wrong. It's not the blossoming black eye or the small scab on his forehead. Its as if the entire picture is a lie. He turns away from the mirror with a low sigh.

    Maybe looking how he did will make these people trust him, they don't have to like him, but trust is imperative. His hair should be shorter, enough so that he can spike the top. The larger over ear hearing aids he's only allowed to wear in private sit awkwardly as he messes with the longer hair at the sides of his head. They're so much more comfortable, it's really a stupid ass rule that they're only for-

Wait.

    Since when has that been a rule? Clint sits up suddenly with the realization. There is no corresponding memory for that order, he'd just...somehow known it was frowned upon. Actually...there's a few things that haven't made sense the last few days. Why had he attempted to be friends with these people before? He'd thought that he was being taken out of the field, not staying a STRIKE DELTA member. So why? And Natasha Romanoff, the conundrum of the Black Widow. Why was she so determined to get the 'real' Clint back? The inefficient idiot that he'd played everyday.

    But was he really inefficient as the goofy archer? He certainly wasn't as efficient that's for sure, but he was able to gather more information about those around him if they thought he was...friendly. Going straight into that idiotic persona with the useless comments would raise suspicion, especially from Romanoff, as she would probably see right through the ruse. So, he needed to be subtle, and the first step is wearing the more comfortable hearing aids in public, and maybe a haircut in a few days. Work some of the random comments floating through his head into conversation. Conversation, which required contact with other humans, which meant massive amounts of wasted time. Time that he could be...doing what exactly?

    Huh. He really had nothing else to do, besides train really, but that didn't take all of his waking hours. Gathering intel and developing his cover were much better uses of his time than he thought.

    It feels good to have a purpose again, a goal. Somehow it reminds of how it felt when he put out a hand instead of a 9mm when confronting the Black Widow. Reminiscent of how it felt to hold a bow that first time. A job, get the Avengers, get...his team-to trust him.

A mask to slide into place.

\-------------------------------

    Bruce notices first. The archer is going through his morning routine, toast or a bagel and coffee when he see's it. The flash of purple added into the raised eyebrow as Tony pours nearly as much creamer into his cup as coffee. Its subtle, and just enough to make the physicist think that maybe Natasha was right, and when time he'd come back. He just hopes that that is the right thing. The archer had been struggling before, not sleeping, flinching at things, training too hard. This Barton, while an anti-social asshole, was actually healthier from a vaguely psychological perspective than before. Bruce was struck in a loop of ˜well old Clint was sick' and 'new Clint is crazy'. Which really, both versions needed serious psychiatric help, but the second, the new one, was much less volatile.

    While he was slightly concerned that Clint would hurt himself, he's got a sinking feeling that Barton is a serial killer (or at least simply really likes killing people when told to). There's something off about him, in the way he speaks, the way he moves. Much like watching him and Natasha spar the night before, as Barton pours his coffee, Bruce feels as if he's observing a wild animal playing at domesticity.


	10. Prague?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh...it hasn't been forever? Yay?
> 
> Here's a chapter, hopefully the motivation that I have right now for this fic continues for awhile. I'd like to give an estimation on how many chapters are left but I honestly have no clue, this is being written by whatever pops into my brain on any given day and goes "hey you can torture this character like this today!!"

         Playing at being…nicer? If that word fits this, is a lot less work than he's expecting it to be. Once he allows some of it to happen the rest floats easily. Its not real, not exactly. He is still most definitely the same man he was a few weeks ago, but they smile at him, say hello in the morning. While he finds the gestures no more than pleasantries…there isn’t an abject problem with them, they waste time but not a significant amount. And the scales are beginning to tip in his favor, even Romanoff seems less hostile now. Romanoff, Natasha as he should refer to her. Nat, as he did call her. Tasha as she was sometimes. She was confusing.

         Romanoff was supposed to be the coldest most brutal assassin the world over. Yet, she seemed more determined than anyone to shed that title, even more so than he wanted to rid himself of the circus freak moniker that had followed him here. They both had pasts they wanted to remove, to delete from history on all accounts. She was supposed to be the name whispered in smugglers and diplomats ears as a threat. A warning. The Black Widow would clean up the mess. Instead, and Clint knows her better than anyone else, he has since he brought her in instead of out, Natalia Romanova hates death. She hates killing if the purpose is not her own. That is where they differ and always have. Clint doesn't mind it as long as he gets paid at the end of the day. But…Loki. He had felt true, unfathomable guilt at what he did those days he was under the spell or mind control or whatever it was. And his own file told him that while he wasn't feeling it now, his emotions were intense and widespread.

           In one gasping breath Clinton Francis Barton knows exactly what happened. They'd tried to fix him. Tried to dampen the emotional responses that were causing nightmares and waking reactions so bad he would out of commission permanently. The thought of blue eyes does not sent him into a hyperventilating panic…he feels his heart rate increase slightly, but not enough to really bother him. He digs deeper, into memories that should cause him pain. They don't.

 SHIELD had tried to fix him, and they might have succeeded.

///////////////////////////////////////

           He knows that Natasha can answer these questions, and he feels a bit out of it. More so than just…purposeful disassociation, he knows that something is going on and that maybe he shouldn't have pushed at the wall. This…he likes this. Being free of the guilt and pain, knowing that what he did under that demigod megalomaniac was not his fault alone. But why did SHIELD do it, and more so, how? Why would they try to keep him active on missions, its not like he was any more useful than most Agents. His aim was what set him apart, and his hand to hand skill kept his there. But he isn't special, not like the little Russian dancing around the floor before his tilted head. She would be worth fighting for, she would be worth breaking to fix. And really, he is himself, just a…lessened version now that he sees it for what it really is. He's always been asocial and prone to distancing himself. Snipers are like that, all the good ones anyway. They watch from far away and high up and learn from that, but when they try to mingle at eye level…they'll always stick out. Not to mention…he's worse than most. A sniper has to watch his own back, and realistically speaking, he can't do that. Without fully functioning ears he cannot watch his own six very well at all.

          So why him? Why not any of the dozens of Agents he's seen terminated for PTSD over the years. Why him, the  deaf circus freak marksmen? Was it because of her? Did they attempt to fix him to keep her? Coulson was the only handler that had ever been able to deal with either let along both, of them. And he was gone, and making Clint a handler was…a good idea but not the most useful for someone with his talents. Was that why? If they kept him in the field, if they fixed this not-so-special sniper, they could keep Romanoff in the field. That must be it, they would not have done this just to fix him, he isn’t worth it.

////////////////////////////////////////

 

          "Romanoff." He doesn't say it like an order, like he could and she would be obligated to respond, although she wouldn't. She disrespects his authority like he's a villain to her hero. Her head tilts in silent recognition of his word. "They tried to fix me." Her head jerks up and she's in front of him so quick he's stepping back like she is about to strike.

         "Clint?" It’s a question, asking if he is Clint or Barton. But he is both, he always has been, this is just…who he hides behind. Clint has knows for years that he has sociopathic tendencies, he always has. But he is not a psychopath, and SHIELD psych agrees with that statement.

         "They tried to fix me, so that you would stay. I think." Its not that he doesn't want to stay like this, social decency is too hard to keep up with really, but now that he thinks about it, he had gotten halfway good at at least pretending before this whole mess started. "I need you to tell me something." Things are still fuzzy, memories that he knows he should have are missing, like pieces of a puzzle. "In Prague, you were bleeding out and I shot the guy who did it. But I left you there, drowning in your own blood, to chase after him and the others. If I did that, why did I risk dying in South Africa to hold you down while you seized? Why did I not go after the men who had done it?" The memories are so contradicting, like when he tried to figure out when he was told to only where his purple hearing aids in private.

         "We never had a mission in Prague. South Africa…that’s you. That’s what you would do, and you risked it all so that maybe one of us could live." Prague never happened. So why does he remember it like it was only months ago? His expression stays blank, not mirroring her like he should be doing, the little social gestures he spent so long-

          "Am I crazy?" He asks her, like he asked the mirror with the wrong reflection? "I remember things you say didn't happen. I don't know how to act around any of you. Why did I try to be friends with anyone?" Her eyes close and she sighs, deep and frustrated.

           "You aren't any crazier than you've always been. SHIELD tried to program you, just like they did me. Do you remember that?" He shakes his head no after a long pause, trying to drag the memory to the surface but he can't. Its there, but its blank. Like a summary without a story to follow it. "What about this?" She starting signing and it takes a moment for his brain to register the words.

           "Yes. I…don't think they touched anything language related." She's surprised by his words. Clint-her Clint, would have been 100 times more comfortable with responding in turn with his hands.

           "When you brought me in, do you remember how you acted?" He remembers a grey sheet over everything, like he didn't want to be there. He saw green eyes and hallowed cheeks. He saw himself in her, in the purple under her eyes and the toned muscle and the bone deep exhaustion. He saw himself, not a mindless killer.

           "Like this." He knows its true, he saw her as an asset, not a friend. But…they became that. They turned into friends through mutual tragedy, they knew each other better than anyone could ever hope to learn either of them.

           "Exactly, once you get your brain back in order…this is you." She seems sincere. "You aren't the friendliest person, but…after time and effort, you don't trust but…you accept. Do you know that?" He nods, still more confused than he ever hoped to be. "Okay. Okay then, lets get you back right?"

           "I don't…I don't know if I want to go back." He sighs and allows his body to relax the tension he's been holding this whole time. "I'm really messed up and I am far more useful like this than I was before, right after the Incident. I know enough about SHIELD and its inner workings to know that programming doesn't always work, but for me it seems like it did. And I want to keep it that way. I can work like this. I am efficient like this."

           "You are always efficient, but…I'm not going to force you to fight this if you don’t want to." She runs a hand over her face. "Look, I just got the email this morning, they want to send us out together. Quick mission in Paris next week. Are you going to be okay to do it? Or do I need to tell them I need a different sniper watching my back?"

           "Do you trust anyone else to watch it?" His supervisor tone takes over again without him meaning for it to, the statement coming out more serious than he intended.

           "Not really. I heard Ward was good, but he's a level 5." He knows the name but doesn't have a face to match to it.

           "Then I have to be good to go, don't I?" It'll be his first mission back in the field, even if he's been cleared for weeks at this point. They haven't given him anything, whether it was to see if the programing stuck or some other reason, he has no idea.


	11. Back in Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the double upload, had to fix the formatting

    There’s too much wind for him to hear much of anything from the rooftop. There’s a murmur and the fizzle of static that means someone on the comm link is talking most likely. “Break break break. Please resend if that was for Sierra 1.” There’s another sniper on the next rooftop, so instead of their standard code names they’d went for post call signs. He hears his callsign and more static, cursing into his sleeve before keying his comm again. “Victor this is Sierra 1, request visual confirmation on last, there’s too much background.”  
    His phone buzzes in his pocket and he contemplates for a split second whether he should check it or not before deciding that its most likely the message he keeps missing. A quick glance away from the scope of the sniper rifles tells him that the message is from the mission handler (Victor).  
Yes, because he wasn’t paying attention. Not like he can’t hear on a good day with minimal background or anything. This is why he doesn’t work with random handlers, it never ends well for them.  
    There’s movement along the front of the building and the target and Natasha appear, hand in hand and he smirks. Tailing...right. She’s got him wrapped around her pinky finger so tight he wouldn’t know if she castrated him. It’s a look Clint has seen plenty of times on targets, Nat has a way of doing this. Then she flickers her left hand, just enough that no one would question it, but Clint knows. Looking down the barrel of the sniper rifle (because his bow is too conspicuous for this, probably will be for a while now after New York), he sees it. And he lines the shot up and fires. He trusts her. Find. Confirm. Exhale. Fire. The man in the window goes down before he hears the gunshot. There had been an enemy sniper in the building across from them, Natasha had the vantage point and saw it, signaled Clint and he took the shot. He doesn’t question it, but after the recoil leaves his shoulder he takes a deep breath. He didn’t question it at all. There’s more movement bellow as Lafayette stops on the sidewalk and cocks his head to the side, listening for more gun shots. Clint won’t fire again unless he has to, unless the target, the real target, because what is Lafayette if not a beard? A figurehead.  
    “What the hell Sierra 1?” It's the first thing that's been clear all day on the damn comm link and he knows that this isn’t going to look good on his very thin ice of a file right now.  
    “Victor Sierra 1, we have enemy movement. If we don’t move we will loss Lafayette and any chance of ever finding Tango 1.” He’s following the windows in his scope, watching for more people like him, lining up their shots to take out the man in the dark grey suit with the bright blue tie. “Sierra 2 do you have movement on your side?”  
    “Negative movement.” He says more but its drowned out by the wind again and Clint is left silently cursing his hearing loss for not the first and definitely not the last time.  
     
The problem isn’t that he took the shot, being where he is with the level and more so, the experience, that he has, he was more than within his scope of responsibility. Especially with the Black Widow having signaled him as she did. The problem is what comes next. Clint and Nat work as a partner pair, and as such they are not accustomed to having to watch for an entire other STRIKE team while doing their own thing. STRIKE Delta has always been the smallest team that SHIELD kept as a team, the two of them and one handler (Coulson, always Coulson). A full STRIKE team, this team they they are working with right now, it is too big, too many moving parts, too much anonymity between those cogs as they spin. There’s the handler, VIctor 1 in the van down the street, monitoring everything they do, and he’s a new handler too, not really experienced enough for an operation of this magnitude. There’s the 2 snipers, the SIerra’s, Clint and another Agent named Hover. Then there’s the radio technician in the van with Victor, the hacker and the scientist back at their temporary HQ, and 3 other people that do various jobs on the mission team. It’s too many people. Clint and Nat have both worked with full STRIKE teams before, but it's never a good experience. At least this one isn’t like the Bosnia mission, when they had combined STRIKE Delta with a full swat team it felt like, what with 17 people in boots on the ground and another 5 trying to keep them from shooting each other. This team, its set up is unique, normally snipers are specialists, not agents, and with their levels being taken into effect, Clint is second in command on this mission, with Natasha being his next.  
And what comes next is a shit show of epic proportions. Also known as a Tuesday for the Delta team, and a once in a million chance for the others. All hell breaks loose about 20 seconds after Clint takes out the enemy sniper, the car that Lafayette is supposed to take blows up in the parking garage, there’s a bullet that bounces off the concrete next to Clint’s left hand and he drops behind the wall before the next one comes in on point. Hover takes out 2 people with non-fatal wounds (they’ll need to question them later, find out who else wants this man). Natasha is pushing Lafayette into the control van for safe keeping, the handler and radio tech taking control of him. And that leaves Clint in control of the radio traffic. The radio traffic he can barely decipher, and coordinating movements between them all, when the only 3 people he can see from his rooftop are Natasha, the other sniper and one of the injured enemy shooters. His and Nat don’t need to talk, don’t need to see each other. Their movements are finally homed perfection, puzzle pieces that move in tandem so well that other teams only wish they could be them. And that's how by the time Victor 1 takes control over the movements again and asks for a sitrep, Clint is 3 city blocks to the south, using his teeth to help tie a strip of cloth around his bicep and Natasha is covering him with his rifle until he gets it in place. Sierra 2 is covering the van and the other undercover agents are evacuating the area with a precision they didn’t know they possessed. Another 30 seconds pass and Natasha is sliding down a fire escape, covered by Barton and then questioning the man with the leg wound that Hover took down first, fluent French sliding through her bared teeth in such a way that no one in the world is scarier. This is the Black Widow, the master assassin. Clint gives the sitrep in a hushed whisper as he watches his partner inflict just enough pain for the man to answer but not enough that he’ll pass out. His own hands are slick with blood from the ricochet that had found his arm during the middle of it all, not enough that he’s worried about it, but enough that he knows he isn’t getting out of stitches this time. And then, 23 minutes after it all started, its over. The injured combatants are loaded into separate vehicles with a med tech to look them over. Lafayette is on his way to the Triskelion and Barton is easing himself off the roof and trying not to jar his frankly very shitty field bandage too much. It stings, not as bad as somethings, but enough that it’s got him on edge. Not to mention that somewhere in all that mess he managed to break one of his hearing aids so everything sounds even worse that it normally does. He sees the mission handler stalking toward him and has to hold in the sigh that threatens to escape, he’s about to get into an argument and its just about the last thing he wants right now.  
“What the hell were you thinking Barton?” He resists the urge to roll him eyes and lets his brain slide into the comfortable nothingness that SHIELD had made him into.  
“The situation was out of your control, I took over. The outcome could have been better, I’ll admit to that fault, but our guys made it out, and no civilian casualties occurred. And at the end of the day, that's what really matters.” He knows that on paper he was out of line but in the moment he made the decision that he needed to and he knows for a fact that at least Natasha will back him on that.  
“We will speak on this later. See yourself to medical, but do not leave until debrief. This is a direct order, do you understand?” Another urge to roll his eyes but programing wins under direction and he nods once.


End file.
